


Got on my dead man's suit and my smilin' skull ring

by Ferrera



Series: Blood and gold [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Power Dynamics, eye socket kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 16:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrera/pseuds/Ferrera
Summary: Negan's itching to touch.





	Got on my dead man's suit and my smilin' skull ring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ninni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninni/gifts).



> I cannot believe I wrote this. I've never watched a full episode of TWD in my life. This is for Ninni, who answered all my questions while writing this, although I'm not sure if I should thank her for introducing me to this ship. It's probably gonna be the death of me.

 

Negan's fingers itch.  
  


The kid's staring at him with one squinted eye, lips pursed. His jaw's firmly clenched, his lithe body strung tight. He's looking a little upset, a little mad, but nowhere near crying, not this time.  
  


God, Negan's fingers have been itching since he got the kid up here in his bedroom the first time.  
  


“C'mon, kid. You think I'm kidding?”  
  


Carl huffs. Negan can pretty much see that big brain working, trying to figure out if he is. Negan steps closer, only an arm's length away now. The boy doesn't step back, doesn't even flinch, Negan's got to give him that.  
  


“Lemme tell ya, boy, I ain't kidding,” Negan offers with a sleazy smile. “I _really_ wanna touch it.”  
  


Carl's jaw clenches visibly, a pretty pink blush creeping up his pale cheeks.

  
“You just wanna make me uncomfortable,” Carl says accusingly, “embarrass me.”  
  
  
Negan puts his gloved hand on the boy's skinny shoulder, gives it a firm squeeze.  
  
  
“You think so, kid? You think I'm messin' with you?”  
  
  
Negan doesn't swing Lucille around while they're in here, not anymore. Didn't do any good. The kid's not shaking and flinching as much as he was back then, but he's still on edge, exactly where Negan wants to have him.  
  
  
“You think I'm fucking with you, kid?” Negan prods when Carl doesn't answer. He sees the boy swallow, sees his narrow baby bird chest rising and falling quickly.  
  
  
“Yeah,” Carl breaths, “I think you are.” His voice trembles a little, but he doesn't sound like he's gonna burst into tears again.  
  
  
“I'm not, kid,” he says, grinning, “I'm fucking _aching_ to touch it, all right?”  
  
  
“You said it looked disgusting,” Carl bites back, “why the hell would you wanna touch it?”  
  
  
Negan snorts, raising his eyebrows at the kid.  
  
  
“C'mon, Carl, you're smarter than this,” he says. “I already told you I like lookin’ at it. I _like_ it when it gets a lil' gross. Why do you think I prefer using Lucille to bash everyone's brains in over just shooting 'em like you do?”  
  
  
Carl seems to need a moment to take that in, glancing over at Lucille lying on the table by the couch.  
  
  
Negan slides the hand he'd been restimg on Carl's shoulder down the kid's arm, squeezes his wrist. He could probably feel the boy's pulse jumping if he wasn't wearing his glove. He takes Carl's hat off, tosses it in the chair nearby. He leans in, hears the kid suck in a shaky breath before he brings his mouth to Carl's ear.  
  
  
“You gonna let me touch it, boy?”  
  
  
He leans back, watches the kid's eye skitter across his face.  
  
  
“I already let you see it,” Carl sputters, “wasn't that enough?”  
  
  
Negan bursts out in laughter, makes sure to let it rumble.  
  
  
“Ah, kid, you know that's only half the fun.”  
  
  
“You're a sick fuck,” Carl spits out, fists clenching by his side. Negan grins widely at the sight in front of him, that tough boy looking all sweet, the way he's trying to sound bolder than he really is.  
  
  
“Tell me somethin' I don't know, kid,” Negan says. He studies Carl, eyes sliding down that pretty face to his skinny chest and narrow hips, down those long bambi legs and back up, making the boy squirm a little under his gaze. “And I'm supposed to believe you're as pure and angelic as you look? That you don't have a single dark, sick urge in you?”  
  
  
Carl huffs. Stands his ground, more or less— he doesn't step back, doesn't avert his eye, but there's no smart-mouthed reply.  
  
  
“You ever touch it yourself, Carl?”  
  
  
Negan's not sure what he expects— a fierce  _no_ , probably, or a bitchy  _why the hell_ _would_ _I_ , but there's nothing like that. Instead, Carl goes quiet, his jaw clenching tight, shoulders tensing even more.  
  
  
“You  _do_ ,” Negan exclaims, “oh, boy, this is just too damn sweet. Tell me, what's it feel like? Does it hurt? You  _like_ it when it hurts, don't you, kid? Should've known you did.”  
  
  
“Shut up,” Carl growls, leaning in, his breath warm against Negan's face. “Shut _up_.”  
  
  
Negan leans in too, raises an eyebrow at the kid.  
  
  
“Did you just tell me to shut up, boy? That's real cute.” He cups the pretty side of Carl's face, lifts his head a little, makes sure his eye stays focused on him before drawing his hand back. “I'm asking politely, kid. What's it feel like?”  
  
  
Carl swallows hard, bites his plush lower lip. He averts his eye, and Negan's gonna push a little harder, but then—  
  
  
“Sensitive,” Carl says, voice hoarse, and Negan swallows his words.  
  
  
“When it'd just happened— the whole side of my face was too tender and sore to touch,” he says, looking back up at Negan, a little unsure. “But once it had mostly healed I— I got a little curious if it would still hurt if I'd press against it.”  
  
  
Negan doesn't say a word, can't risk to make the kid crawl back into his shell. He brings his hand up to the flawless side of Carl's face, tucks the boy's hair behind his ear, lingers a little on his bandages.  
  
  
"It's a little addictive,” Carl admits, “Dad always tells me I shouldn't touch it, but I just... Sometimes I just can't help it."  
  
  
God, this is gold. The way the kid opens up to him is just too damn sweet.  
  
  
“Damn, boy,” Negan murmurs. “Now you've truly got me achin' to touch that sweet spot of yours.”  
  
  
Carl's cheeks turn a darker shade of pink at his words. Negan cups his scarred cheek, curls his other hand around the boy's upper arm. Carl's breath hitches, his pretty eye fluttering.  
  
  
“Take your bandages off for me,” Negan demands, then lets go of Carl's face.  
  
  
Carl doesn't make as much of a fuss as he did last time. He stares at Negan, a little hesitant, but Negan stares right back. “Go on, then,” he murmurs, and then Carl reaches behind his head, slowly undoing his bandages. He drops them on the table, then looks back up at Negan, clearly trying not to hide, to own it like Negan told him to, but it doesn't look very convincing.  
  
  
Negan brings a hand up to the damaged side of his face and brushes his bangs out of the way, exposing his empty socket. Carl stiffens again, eye narrowing.  
  
  
“Be careful,” he warns, and that's it, the greenlight, the clearest _yes_ Negan could've hoped for.  
  
  
Negan brushes his thumb over Carl's cheekbone, just below the empty socket. The boy groans softly, his eye fluttering closed.  
  
  
“Good boy,” Negan murmurs, slowly exploring the scarred flesh with the pad of his thumb. Carl's still tense. His hands have found the belt of Negan's leather jacket, fingers clenching tight.  
  
  
“Tell me kid, what's it feel like?” Negan murmurs, still stroking below the empty socket, resisting the urge to rub along the rim or dip a finger inside.  
  
  
“Fine,” Carl croaks, “it's not— not very sensitive anymore. Not there.”  
  
  
Negan moves his thumb up just the slightest bit, rubs down a little harder.  
  
  
"You like to rub it here as well, Carl?"  
  
  
Carl lets out a breathy _yes._ He's staring back at Negan, soft pants spilling from his parted lips. He's such a sight. All that scarred skin, that dark, empty socket, his pale blue eye, that wet, open mouth— God, the boy is definitely prettier than some of his wives.  
  
  
"You ever touch it while you play with yourself?"  
  
  
Carl honest to god keens, his hips jerking, that pretty face turning bright red. Negan leans back a little, glances down at the front of Carl's soft-worn jeans, not hiding the slight swell there.  
  
  
“Oh boy, this just keeps gettin' sweeter and sweeter.”  
  
  
“Don't,” Carl warns. Humiliation is clear on his face, his fat bottom lip quivering a little. Negan slowly traces the pad of his thumb over the edge of his socket, not quite pressing down.  
  
  
“Bet you come real good from having it touched,” Negan murmurs, smirking.   
  
  
“Don't mess with me,” Carl croaks, “ _Negan_.” His hands press against Negan's lower belly, trying to push him away.  
  
  
“I'm not messin' with you, boy.” He takes Carl's hand and guides it down, places it on the swell of his half-hard dick.  
  
  
“Feel that? I'm not fucking with you, kid. You get me hard faster than most of my wives.”  
  
  
Carl lets out a shaky little  _oh_ , fingers twitching against Negan's dick.  
  
  
“Now answer me,” Negan says, “you ever come while touching it?”  
  
  
“N-no,” Carl stutters. He moves his hand away from Negan's dick, curls his hands into the soft leather of his jacket instead.  
  
  
“You ever let anyone else touch it while gettin' you off?”  
  
  
Carl whimpers, tries to hide his face against Negan's chest, but Negan twists his fingers into that long hair and pulls his head back a little.  
  
  
“Well?”  
  
  
“I've never,” Carl stammers, “no one's ever— no one's ever touched me like that.”  
  
  
God, it just keeps getting better and better.  
  
  
“My dear boy,” Negan says, “you truly are somethin’ else.” He slips a hand down Carl's stomach, presses it against the swell of his dick. Carl whimpers, bucks his hips against Negan's hand.  
  
  
“You sure got me conflicted,” Negan smirks. He's not touching Carl's face anymore, solely focused on his dick now, rubbing his palm against the denim-clad swell. “Right now I'm not sure if I should let you fuck one of my wives, or if I better just keep you to myself instead.”  
  
  
Carl whimpers at that, murmurs something unintelligible. His face is all hot and flushed, sweat beading at his temples.  
  
  
“Get that dick out for me, boy,” Negan demands, leaning back a little. Carl doesn't hesitate, unbuckles his belt with shaky hands, pulls the zipper down. Gets his dick out, holds it at the base. He's hard as fuck, leaking a little at the tip.  
  
  
“Look at you,” Negan murmurs, “Gettin’ all wet from having your socket touched.”  
  
  
“ _Negan_ ,” Carl whimpers, reaching for him again, grabbing the lapels of Negan's jacket.  
  
  
“Now who's the sick fuck, huh,” Negan murmurs. “You're too much of a treasure to let go. Not gonna let you fuck one of my wives, Carl. Gonna keep you all to myself, make you my little wife.”  
  
  
He brings a hand up to Carl's face again, touches the skin above his socket, follows the shape of it with his fingertips. He slips his other hand down between the both of them, loosely takes the kid's dick in his hand. Carl hisses at the contact. God, this is the first time the kid's having his dick touched. The angle's all wrong, not that Carl seems to mind. He's panting softly now, eye closed, his mouth slack.  
  
  
“Turn around,” Negan says, and Carl does as he's told, leaning back against Negan's broad chest. Negan pushes the boy's jeans and underwear a little further down his thighs, wraps his gloved hand around the kid's weeping dick. He brings his other hand up to his face, brushes his fingers along the rim of that empty socket.  
  
  
“Didn't think you'd let me touch it so easily,” he murmurs into the boy's soft hair, “such a good boy for me, aren't you?”  
  
  
“Don't fucking make me regret it,” Carl bites back, his hips bucking into Negan's hand.  
  
  
“Oh, don't worry, boy,” Negan murmurs, “gonna make you feel real good.”  
  
  
Carl pants and shudders, leaking out more pre-come as Negan keeps trailing his fingertips all over that scarred skin.  
  
  
“Such a filthy boy,” Negan drawls, “getting off on having that gross empty eye socket touched.”  
  
  
“You gotta,” Carl pants, “gotta rub it a little harder.”  
  
  
“Damn, boy, you're needier that some of my wives,” Negan retorts, but he does what the kid asked for, rubs along the rim a little harder. Carl's not gonna beg for it, that much he knows. He starts jerking the kid a little faster. He's still wearing his glove, but Carl doesn't seem to mind. The kid knows how to ask him to take it off if he wants him to.  
  
  
“That good?” Negan grins, “gonna come from having it touched, boy?”  
  
  
Carl's panting all sweetly, squirms against him, his skinny butt rubbing against Negan's dick just right.  
  
  
“Or do you need me to eat it out like a pussy?” Negan continues, and god, the kid's just too easy, whimpering _oh my god_ as he comes all over Negan's gloved hand, just like that. His long bambi legs are shaking visibly, baby bird chest heaving.  
  
  
“You're so damn easy, kid,” Negan smirks as he wipes his hand on his pants. He turns Carl around, cups his sweaty, flushed face in both hands, looks into that pretty blue eye.  
  
  
“Next time, try to really make me work for it.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope to god this isn't too OOC. I think I might've written Carl a bit too soft and pliant, but well. Writing a fic for a show you've never seen is damn hard, I'll tell you that. Let me know what you think. Also, a tumblr post of this fic can be found [here](https://saintedevote.tumblr.com/post/183522736994/negans-fingers-itch-the-kids-staring-at-him) :)
> 
> A/N May 30th 2019: I've edited little bits here and there and I've changed the title, cos I finally figured out where I'm heading with this. The new title is taken from Further On (Up The Road) by Bruce Springsteen.


End file.
